


overture (bold and beyond)

by coffeecrowns



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Literal Sleeping Together, Multi, Post 156, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, complicated sibling relationships bc of abusive parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeecrowns/pseuds/coffeecrowns
Summary: Despite all their differences, Hamid and Sasha understood each other, understood parents and cruelty.And now Sasha knows so much more, and is completely unreachable. Hamid is fine.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Azu, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Saira al-Tahan, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Sasha Racket
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	overture (bold and beyond)

**Author's Note:**

> i am simply projecting onto the halfling. do not worry. it's probably just bc i also want to be a dragon
> 
> the title is from achilles come down and this is truly the shortest lyric i could pick to call this bastard im sorry but also its big trans and abused energy so im not that sorry. 
> 
> some warnings:  
> the transphobia is mostly hamids own, though its also mixed in with the more general abuse/neglect patterns in this fic.

It takes days, weeks, months, to process the entire letter. But he’s still in the early days during an afternoon chat with Wilde when the man offers “if you want a copy for the letter, I can make that happen”. Hamid is desperate and overwhelmed all over again. This is not the first or last time it’s happened when Sasha comes up. A day later Wilde hands him a letter in Wilde’s own hand, after Hamid has recovered enough to remember that he still has magic and Wilde doesn’t. 

“Oscar, did you copy it by hand?”

“Yes,” he replies, not even bothering to fake a smile which Hamid is touched by. “It's helpful.” Wilde says. “for processing it all.” 

“Right, I’m sorry, I forgot.” 

“Quite alright Hamid,”

“If you’re sure.” Because no matter how much Hamid trusts and cares for Wilde, the way the man stares out of the window, looming so much taller than him, scares him in that deep part of his brain. He’s stuck, and he’s six, he’s eight, he’s twenty and he’s here now. And there’s nothing he can do but stay and still as he can and not say anything or make it worse. Oscar then turns slightly, the lighting changes, and he can breath again. Because he is with Wilde. Who is not like his family, even if Wilde is the only posh person Hamid is still friends with. 

“Hamid, are you alright?” 

“For a given value of alright, I suppose,” he sighs in non-answer. “It’s just a lot, Oscar. It’ll be better tomorrow.” 

Technically, all of that is true. Probably. 

In Hamid’s family, Aziza was always the magic one. Bardic magic wasn’t particularly proper or impressive - his father had very little to say and even less of it kind. Then again, Aziza wasn’t smart enough to have any real role in the company - after Aziza’s first principal role, his mother told him how glad she was Aziza would have something other than her beauty to help her find a husband, how she was glad Aziza would be able to make it in the world on her own after all. 

(Aziza wasn’t actually dumb, he found out much later. After switching to magic at Oxford, he had a lab with a young dwarf who rolled their eyes at his fascination with their spells, biting out “haven’t you heard of dyslexia mate?”

Hamid apologized at the next session, and asked if they’d teach him the reading spell to help his sister. It was one of the only times he properly studied, and her delighted letter was worth every minute.) 

Aziza was important, because she had been like Hamid, but had found something suitable to master and earned their parents love. If it sent jealousy down his spine, it just meant he had to work harder. The fact that he was jealous went in the same pile where he kept the fact he was fifteen and alone in Britain and a failure. 

Frankly, the only reason Hamid is keeping it together was the fact that no one has all the pieces. Zolf met Barret, watched Hamid react to his “parents” being “proud of him” - but dismissed Sasha’s understandable (and correct) fear. Azu was there for the funeral, for the aftermath, for his father throwing a chair. But it was Sasha who put it all together, who recognized him and how his family worked. 

It was in Paris, shortly after it all fell apart but before it went to hell. 

“You were right, to worry, about my parents. Before.” He managed, on an early morning over a cup of tea. He had just woken up, and she had just come back to the hotel. 

“I know.” She replied. “You knew how Barret worked too well.” 

“I’m sorry. You deserved better than him.”

She flashed him a sleep deprived crooked grin, “Got there eventually, didn’t I?” Sasha was gone before he had a response, which he was already used to. But he heard her soft snoring, even if he couldn’t tell from where. 

And it was that crooked grin and that confidence she had in then that makes Sasha the only person Hamid wants to talk to now. He wants to know every detail of how Sasha raised and loved and parented a large family. He reads his careful copy of the letter over and over, tracing his finger over the lines that describe her family. He sleeps with the paper tucked beneath his pillow. Hamid can nearly see her, hold babies and toddlers, caring as they cried. He knows in the same way he knows his spells that she was kind, and that she was honest, and that her kids never doubted her love. He wants to know how she did it without the voices of those who had hurt her taking up too much room in her head. 

And Hamid is never going to get to talk to her again. 

When Hamid was fourteen, he admitted to himself he was never going to be happy as a girl. He hadn’t slept well in weeks, fighting himself on the basic facts of his own life. He dreaded telling his parents. But there was a part of him already resigned to disappointing them, a part of him that accepted his life would always have the painful marks they left. It was a new dread that went deeper in his heart: Saira. 

They had been lumped together their entire lives. Saleh was untouchable, Aziza was a star, and the twins were sweet baby boys. But Saira paved the way for him, set the bar, got their parents onboard for things. He didn’t mind being her shadow. It was safe. His parents never expected him to be better than her, he’d proven he couldn’t be. And Saira wasn’t mean about it. Saira had the same standards, if not even harder ones. His best moments were all spent in her room, laying on the carpet while reading over her notes. 

Being Saira’s sister was the best thing he had going for him, and it was going to kill him. 

At least his parents took it well. They sent him away to build a new identity far away from everyone who had known him. It was a good plan. A kind plan. It didn’t stop him from crying the first many nights in dorms. There’s no reason for him to be upset. His hair has been cut, his name now contains his fathers, the temple of Dionysus have mastered the art of changing bodies and genders. 

Saira didn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t blame her: he got to escape. He’s so angry with her: she gets a thousand more chances and he is alone. They’re just no longer on parallel paths and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He just hopes he gets a chance to figure it out. 

Hamid goes to Azu. He’s not sure what he thinks will happen. But Azu is safe, Azu has always been safe. Azu is his best friend, and she’s steady and strong. Knocking on her door makes him realize it’s later than he realized, with her sleepy call of “Who is it?” 

“Me, sorry Azu.”

“Oh Hamid, come in.” And he’s fragile enough to not be able to go against a command like that and he wants to see her enough to turn himself away. She’s lit a cream coloured candle beside her bed, and she’s in her pyjamas and she’s staring at him so kindly and- 

Hamid burst into tears. 

Azu picks him up, and he feels so safe in her arms. He just curls in close, and weeps openly into her. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Azu asks, not presuming, just a kind offer from a dear friend. 

“It’s about Sasha, sort of, I don’t know if you want to hear about that-”

“Hamid, I am okay. I am worried about you.” He laughs at touch, and he can feel Azu’s smile in her voice. “Thank you, habibi.” 

He barely knows how to put it all together. 

“My parents were, are really, unkind. They never liked me, or any of us. Saira got a lot of it. They tried, and they were busy, but it always hurt to see them or talk to them, and it hurt more when they were upset and they weren’t around when they were happy. And I never knew what I had done so wrong.”

“Oh, Hamid, you did not do anything wrong. Your parents were supposed to love you, and I’m sorry.” He takes another deep breath against her chest. “What does this have to do with Sasha?”

“She knew. She knew how bad it was. She saw right through me. She understood, and then she had a family and loved them and it was okay. And I’m so happy for her but I just want to talk to her and know how she did it.”

More tears fall as he speaks, and Azu is quiet for a moment. “I do not know what Sasha would have said. But I do know that you are not your parents. I have met them. And that family Sasha built, where she went? That wasn’t her first family. We were. We’ve all taught each other how to be a family. Sasha learnt. And so have you.” 

Hamid relaxes. He trusts Azu when he cannot trust himself, and this applies. “Thank you,” he mummers. 

“Of course.” Azu replies. “Would you like to stay? I sleep better when you’re here.” Hamid, exhausted, flattered, just nods against her. She extinguishes the candle with her fingers, and moves them back into her bed and under the covers. 

The last thought he has before he falls asleep is how much he loves two women he would have never imagined would make him feel so safe. For the first time in a while, he feels no fear, only gratitude to whatever fate has led him here. 

(And it is, however slightly, better in the morning.) 

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this google doc was "hamid is trans and everything hurts more" 
> 
> i am sorry.


End file.
